


Parallel Mirrors

by VicBaylies



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, But everything is consensual, Dopplegangers, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Happy Ending, M/M, Mirror Universe, Requited Unrequited Love, and a tiny bit of angst, dub con for cw purposes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 09:35:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9485276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VicBaylies/pseuds/VicBaylies
Summary: 4 part series about the TOS mirror universe. Chapters will focus on Mirror:Spock/Kirk, Spock/Mirror:Kirk, Mirror:Kirk/Mirror:Spock, and Kirk/Spock, in chronological order.Both Kirks like their Spocks. Both Spocks like their Kirks. They all assume their affection is unrequited, but after sexual adventures with their dopplegangers they all realize this is not the case. Takes place during / after the episode "Mirror Mirror". Notes at the end.[currently not being updated because I'm focusing on a Breakfast Club fic, though I do intend to return to this at some point]





	

He knew it was not _his_ captain. If it were _his_ captain, entering the man's quarters with the intentions he had would be suicide. But that was why, if he was ever going to assuage this burning desire-- he shrouded it in lust to avoid confronting the terrifying fact that it was something much deeper and more powerful-- it had to be now.

The situation had its own dangers, of course. He had no way of knowing who this impostor was or where he came from or what his intentions were. But after seeing him spare Ensign Chekov he doubted the stranger had any true blood lust, and Spock had his superior strength if things went wrong.

Now he only needed to compose himself, preparing his careful act.

“Come.” When he was bade entrance the command was stern, but stepping over the threshold of the captain's quarters he was once again met with the uncanny mask of his captain, his Kirk. Underneath this doppelganger's own act was a self-betraying nature, just a bit too soft, a bit to gentle. They were both engaged in their own lies, two actors carefully improvising a script with dire consequences.

Spock ordered the door to lock behind him, and he saw Kirk tense nervously-- hand twitching towards the dagger at his side-- preparing for a second attempt on his life. “Don't worry, Captain.” he said evenly, “I have checked the ship's security program to ensure no possibility of tampering. The lock is secure, we will not be interrupted.” He began untying his gold sash, watching Kirk out of the corner of his eye.

“Mhmm.” The man made an ambiguous affirmative grunt, but his muscles did relax slightly.

“I am aware the day must have been stressful for you. First the transporter malfunctioning, then ensign Chekov's fruitless attempt at treason.” He removed his uniform jacket and folded it, with the sash, neatly on a table by the door. As he talked he began to close the space between them. “And it has been some time since you and I met for... Recreational purposes.” He made sure to give this Kirk just enough to fill in the blanks, just enough to understand the part he would be playing. “I thought it would be beneficial, for the sake of the ship, if you were a little less--” He leaned in close, right next to the curved human ear. “--tense.”

If he spoke figuratively, he might say he head the 'click' in Kirk's head. He handed off the lead role, it was the other man's turn to pick up the act.

“Very observant of you.” He said cooly. Kirk stepped back, not removing himself from the situation but maintaining the illusion of control. He began undoing his own sash, tossing it carelessly on a desk rather than folding it. If he were human Spock would smirk. It was a small gesture but a very believable impersonation of his captain.

“ 'The sake of the ship',” Spock was brought out of his thoughts by the mocking quote and the way Jim slipped his vest off his shapely torso. Kirk flashed a devilish toothy smile. “Is that really your endgame, lieutenant?” He tossed the uniform to the side, annoyingly aware of how intently Spock's eyes were locked on his newly exposed flesh.

“There,” He forced his gaze back to Jim's face. “may be a personal investment, as well.” Despite his underlying kindness, Spock suspected the smug look on Jim's face was entirely genuine. The captain closed the distance between them again, this time on his own terms. “Of secondary importance to duty, of course.” Spock tentatively raised his fingers to the edge of Jim's pants, where they rested snug against soft tan flesh.

“Always second to duty, of course.” There was a sadness behind that line. Deeper than the two of them, deeper than their acts, a lament of Spock to his Kirk and this Kirk to his Spock, always so close but kept from each other by the unseen barrier of duty, of the ship, of the roles they forced themselves to play.

Spock's hands latched onto Kirk's hips and, with a slight gasp of surprise, swung him around and tossed him onto the bed. He quickly followed, tearing his undershirt off with none of the composure he previously maintained. Kirk hummed appreciatively, hands hurrying to undo his own pants which had become decidedly too tight.

There were fewer scars on this Kirk, Spock noted. Presumably he lead a more comfortable life, or at least one which necessitated fewer immediate attempts on his life. It was the only significant observation he made before falling on the soft, tan body that he so often admired when they sparred. Touching it intimately, without the pretense of combat, his calloused hands were desperate to touch every inch. They brushed over the muscled slope of Kirk's shoulders, down to his chest where he groped the soft flesh there and was rewarded with a gasp and arched back. Then down the sides, landing on his hips and grasping them like handles, hoisting Kirk up just enough that his ass rested flush with Spock's groin. His thumbs rubbed at the hollow of Kirk's hipbones as he mouthed the other man's chest.

“It really has been a while, hasn't it?” The comment was playful, as Kirk rolled his hips for the dual effect of teasing Spock and getting some rewarding friction himself.

Spock growled lowly, looking up at Kirk with starving eyes. If this were his captain, he knew full well that there would already be nails, scratching, biting, blood. It was in their natures. But this was not his captain. This man, he had to remind himself, was softer, gentler, and in any incarnation he couldn't bear to see Jim hurt beyond his comfort level. So he settled for slipping some teeth into the attention he was paying to Kirk's chest, drawing them down the sternum and nipping periodically. Kirk gasped and bucked his hips, pressing the firmness of his growing erection against Spock's stomach.

Remembering faintly something about Vulcan ears, and their erogenous significance, he let his hands trail over Spock's back, nails just barely grazing as they passed up his neck, falling on the delicate pointed shells and massaging them attentively. He felt a throaty groan from Spock reverberate against his rib cage as the taller man stiffened, arching up into the touch.

Spock's hands disappeared from his hips, slipping down frantically to undo and yank down each of their pants. They were both achingly hard by then, slick with precome, and Spock wasted no time in wrapping a single large hand around them both. With some regret, he recognized that this was likely not the time or place for penetrative sex considering the complex power dynamics at work. Then again, he didn't feel he would last through the process of preparation, so maybe it was for the best. Regardless there were no complaints from Kirk.

“Fuck, Spock, yes, God, don't stop-”

“It would be entirely unreasonable for me to do so, Captain.” He said in a clipped tone, reveling in the laugh that Kirk responded with.

“Sure know how to sweet talk, don't you?” One of his hands was gripped lightly in the Vulcan's hair, one digging its nails into the muscle of the Vulcan's lower back. A few more strokes and he pulled the Vulcan down, into a kiss, slow and desperate. The beard, though-- he couldn't not be a bit distracted by the beard. It took him out of the moment briefly, from the illusion that this could be his own first officer, until Spock moaned desperately into the kiss and sped up the pace of his hand. Then the beard wasn't so bad, Kirk mused.

As Kirk felt himself rapidly approaching the edge of climax Spock ducked out of the kiss, leaving his mouth parted and gasping. The taller man lunged at his neck, sucking and biting and pressing the whole of his body onto the man beneath him, yearning for an animalistic release and a much deeper longing to simply meld together, to never be parted, to--

“ _\--at his side, as if you've always been there and always will_ ”

He jolted back, as if stung, and looking down saw that Jim seemed equally shocked. His gut sank and he felt everything fall away for a moment-- his act, his authority, his Vulcan composure. He and this Kirk stared at each other like two oncoming cars headed for collision. They had both been yanked from their fantasy, alarmingly exposed to someone they were each forced to recognize as a stranger. Kirk's eyes darted to the dagger he had tossed on the floor, alarmed he might now have to defend himself against an enraged Vulcan.

But Spock quickly pinned his hands to the bed, looming over him in a way that the shorter man found frustratingly arousing. He hated that this had happened, and that it was happening right before their climax, as well. Couldn't this have waited a few minutes?

Spock raised an eyebrow. The meld, though quickly fading, kept a slight connection between the two. Enough for the amusing thought to pass from one to the other.

“I...”

“Who was the woman?” Spock murmured, eyes trailing off to the way Jim's gold-brown hair pressed into the pillow, worried that if he stared at the man's face too long his sadness might show through. “The one who said that.”

“The woman.” Jim let his sadness express itself fully in the mournful word. “Edith.” He thought back on her face, her kindness, of all the good she could have done in the world. A world very different from this one, and from his own. “An old.. Friend. Gone now.” He said, barely more than a whisper.

Spock let his eyes trail back to Jim's hazel ones.

“Would it be too--” Kirk squirmed uncomfortably. “too crass of me, if you have no objection, to--”

Spock looked down between the two of them, where their cocks were blissfully ignorant of the awkward situation, standing stiffly at attention.

“Or I could--” Kirk offered, hesitantly reaching down between them.

Spock nodded, perhaps over-eagerly, in a way that broke Kirk's face into a wide grin. He gripped them firmly and made one slow, full stroke from base to head before quickly picking up pace to match their earlier speed. Spock ducked his head down to the crook of Kirk's neck once more, breathing heavily against the other man's shoulder as Kirk leaned over to lick and nip playfully at his ear. It was a short time before each man was bucking their hips erratically, strokes becoming quicker and shorter. Spock came first, groaning and body going ridged as Kirk continued to stroke him through the orgasm, and at the feeling of Spock's hot come splattering his chest and fingers Kirk arched his back and came with a keening moan as well. He stroked a few more times, full and slow, coaxing them both through the final spasms of climax.

When his hand fell away they remained in place briefly, breathing heavily and re-orienting themselves into their unfortunate situation. Kirk was contemplating the cooling sweat and come on his skin and whether he should request a shower when Spock broke the post-coital silence.

“I knew, from the moment I saw you. The bond I have with my captain-- with this world's Kirk-- I would recognize its absence under any circumstances. But still I pursued you, under false pretense, because I know my captain would never accept such advances. I.. Apologize, sincerely, for my deception.”

Kirk laughed, a sound that eased Spock's tension. He let himself fall forward, slumping against the side of Kirk, no longer looming over. One long, dark-haired arm lay across the other man's chest protectively. It had been an exhausting day, and Kirk decided he could live with putting a shower off for a bit.

“I knew as well,” he quipped, “on account of the beard and my sleeves being gone.” Maybe it was his rose-tinted half-lidded eyes, but he thought he saw the corner of Spock's mouth twitch upward.

He reflected on the bond this Spock mentioned, and whether it was something his own Spock recognized in his absence as well. He frowned, concern creeping in for his first officer, his crew members, and the possibility of them returning to their own universe. But for now, as he listened to Spock's breath slip into an even rhythm indicating sleep, he gripped the hand across his chest lightly and closed his eyes. There was a lot that needed to be discussed, and remedied, but like a shower it could wait for a few hours.

 

**Author's Note:**

> In my head cannon / interpretation of the Mirror Universe, even though murder and treason and back-stabbing is normal consent is still important. I hate rape culture and rape-normative stuff and I don't even want to write it in my evil universes. :|


End file.
